by Rodney Jones
“I didn’t sleep well. I read your book until the lamp got low on oil.”
“Nights are pretty much the only time I have to read.” I glanced over my shoulder, toward the stairs. “My aunt’s timing my visit.” I let go of a sigh.
“What if your uncle insists on taking me home?”
“I’m praying he doesn’t.”
“Oh. I don’t have a good feeling—”
“John, breakfast,” Aunt Lil called.
I looked at Tess and again sighed. “I wish I could say I did.”
We were seated at the table, a big bowl of cooked oats before each one of us, when my aunt turned to Tess and asked, “You sleep well, hon?”
“I was okay, ma’am.”
“Pardon?”
“I slept okay.”
“Tess’s folks come from Scotland,” I said. “They say ‘okay’ instead of all right.”
“Oh? That right?”
“Oh, yes, ma’am. I meant, all right.”
“What’d you say your family name was?”
“McKinnon, sir. It’s my father’s side that’s from Scotland. I think my mother’s is Polish and German, from way back.”
“McKinnon… don’t believe I’ve met any of the McKinnons. A big family?”
“It’s just the three of us.”
My aunt turned her head at this. “Just three children?”
“I mean me and my mom and dad.”
“Oh.” Her eyebrows lifted.
“What is it your pa does?” my uncle asked.
Tess gave me a quick glance. I couldn’t recall her ever saying what he did, but I suspected it was something that would raise more questions, as I felt sure her hesitation was doing.
“Construction, sir.”
My uncle squinted. “Construction?”
“He builds things—houses and, well, things like that.”
“A carpenter?”
Tess’s eyes roamed the empty space before her. “Yeah, like a carpenter.”
“That must be a difficult trade in a village as small as Wallingford.”
Tess appeared lost. She mouthed what was likely the beginning of an explanation, but then pressed her lips together and nodded. I held back a sigh.
My uncle nodded at her. “You get said everything you came to say?”
“Yes, sir.” She forced a smile to her lips.
“Well, this is what we’ll do then. We’ll saddle up the three horses, and then once we get up the road a piece—”
I knew it wasn’t a good idea, but I had to interrupt. “Sir?”
“I’ll take the goose and the mare, and leave you two with the brown—”
“Sir?”
“John, what?”
“With your permission, I’d like to escort Tess home myself.”
My uncle shook his head. “Unless I’m mistaken, that’s exactly what I just proposed.”
“Oh?”
“I’ll be leaving you two up the way with the brown is what I said, son.”
“Oh.”
“You listening now?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I need the wagon. That’s why I’m bringing the two back with me. It’ll be a long day, I’m sure you know, so we need to get a move on.”
Tess turned to me, her eyebrows raised. I glanced from her to my uncle, then to my aunt.
“Ed, don’t you think that’s going to look peculiar, you all going off on three horses, and then you showing up, so soon after, with two?”
“Well, Lil, wasn’t this your idea? Why was I made to believe that all my ideas looked so mighty peculiar?”
“Land sakes, Ed. It just looks like we’re trying to hide something. Why not borrow one of Mr. Heming’s horses for the wagon? They have the four. Just tell them what we got here, send these two on their way— just a ride over the mountain, nothing much for gossip, really—don’t you think?”
“If that ain’t just…” My uncle’s hands flew up to either side of him. “Well, fine. That’s just perfect fine, then.”
My uncle and I left the house to unload Zach’s glass from the wagon, then saddle up the two horses. Tess stayed in to help my aunt put together a lunch for us to take.
Once we got to the barn, my uncle said, “It seems there’s some fondness between you and that gal. I’ve got no solid reason as I can see for doubting that story of yours about how you came to meet. But it strikes me curious the way you look after her, just having watched a train go by together. She may well be a fine and decent gal. I’m not one to judge, given the little I know, but there’s something I can’t quite figure. I don’t know that you’re seeing it, John. I hope I’m wrong, but I don’t know as she’s being entirely truthful with us.”
I would’ve liked to have said something in her defense. It hardly seemed right saying nothing, but with Tess not yet safely home, I instead snugged the straps on the brown and kept my thoughts to myself.
“I trust, John, you’ll not disrespect that gal in so much as the slightest way?”
“No, sir.”
“You going to tell me what all this is about? What it is she came here to tell you?”
I cleared my throat. “Well, sir, the thing is, I promised Tess that I’d not tell until she’s gone.”
He stopped what he was doing and turned to me. “You what?”
“I had to, sir.”
“You had… I… Lord, John, this is…” He huffed out a cloud of frustration. “This is the darnedest, craziest… what on God’s fine earth is going on around here?”
I grimaced. “I know it’s not usual. It’s, well, complicated, sir. But I give you my word that as soon as I get back, I’ll explain it all. My word on that, sir.”
He gave me a long hard stare, which ended in another huff, then turned and went back to fastening buckles. “About as usual as a three-legged duck, all this business with this gal. But I reckon this one time, it’ll suffice.” He shook his head. “I hope I’m not making a mistake here, trusting you with this.”
I swallowed. “I assure you, sir, you’re not.”
Tess and I rode up the road past the Hemings’ place. As we approached the Tabors’, their two mongrels—one, a medium-sized, short-haired dog with a square tortoise-like head, and the other, a mutt/collie mix—came tearing around the corner of their house, greeting us with a dutiful ruckus.
“Shut your yapping!” I said.
Mrs. Tabor stuck her head out her front door and hollered at the dogs. Looking confused, they quieted, then wandered indecisively back toward the house.
Next, was the Snyders’ place. Will and his second son, James, were out in front of the barn, hitching up their wagon for the ride into Weston. They both turned toward Tess and me as we rode by, she on the goose and I on the brown. I gave them a nod and a “Good morning,” which they returned, and that was the extent of it.
Tess had wanted to wear the dress she’d come in, but Aunt Lil wouldn’t have it. I glanced over at her, a curious sight with an old pair of my brown trousers on, the cuffs rolled up a bit, patches on the knees, and her pretty, green China dress tucked down into it. I didn’t know if it was the sight of her, the fact she got a compromise from my aunt, or her simply being here alongside me, but I had to turn away for a moment to keep from laughing.
She twisted around and looked back over her shoulder toward the village behind us. “When I was a kid, my mom and dad used to take me to this park north of Rutland with bridle trails. I loved it. I haven’t been on a horse in a long time. I used to fantasize that someday I’d have one of my own. This is just so amazing.”
“I’d give you three horses and a mule to boot for that car of yours.”
“It’s a deal.”
I gave her a grin. “How’d you get up here?”
“I drove. Mom has her car back from the shop. I left mine parked back there.” She threw a thumb up over her shoulder. “The same place.”
“I was worried about you getting home all right that day I came back. I didn�
��t even think about it until it was too late.”
“What a weird day.”
“What?”
“That day.”
“Did you hear me hollering?”
“Hollering?” Her face contorted. “What?”
“When we were up there, after you disappeared? I could hear you calling. For about a minute, I could still hear you. So I hollered back. Did you hear me?”
“No, you were just gone. There one second, gone the next. I didn’t see it happen, didn’t hear a thing.” She turned and looked at me as though she’d only just realized how incredible that was. “I was so creeped out at first when I realized it was real, that you really did it. It’s funny. I started worrying about you, hoping you made it home okay. How could I know? And then coming here. God, talk about scared. I still can’t believe I did this. It’s crazy. Wow…” She let out a huff. “Now I know how you must’ve felt.”
“But I didn’t do it by choice.”
“Still, though.”
“You scared now?”
She nodded. “A little.”
“Yeah.”
“It’s the times, I think, the attitudes. The ‘yes, sir,’ ‘yes, ma’am’ stuff. I’m not used to that. I suppose if you grew up with it, you would be. But then, there’s the whole sex discrimination thing.”
“The what thing?”
“You know, the inequality between men and women. In my time, women vote. They’re doctors, judges, police, lawyers, and everything else.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“Really?” she mocked. “There’s no way I could live here, huh uh.” She shook her head. “What about you? Could you live in my time?”
I’d thought about that… quite a bit actually. “That book I’ve been reading got me wondering about a lot of things. How much did you read last night?”
“I saw the movie.”
“Pardon?”
“Movies. They’re like pictures that move… with sound. Like a play… kind of.”
Pictures that move. “Hmm…” I said. “I wouldn’t mind spending more time in the future with all those new inventions. Though, I suppose I’d be more comfortable among my own folk.”
“Well, I would be there,” Tess said. “It’d be great if you could come and visit.”
I nodded. “I would if I could be sure of getting back.”
“You did, though, huh?”
“Yeah, I did, didn’t I? I got back here at the same time as I’d left. My uncle’s wagon was sitting here waiting for me, like nothing had happened. I thank the Lord every day for that. But what if it’s not always that way, Tess? Who’s to say? I mean, what if I came back to ten years later or ended up going the other way? Lord, what if I returned to a time before I even left? It could’ve gone any number of ways, seems to me.”
I figured Tess would have something to add, but she remained quiet. Once I thought about what I’d said, I felt like giving myself a kick in the hindquarters. There she was, taking a huge risk. She knew it was risky, but she had done it anyway—not for herself, but for me. That took more courage than I could imagine. And there I was filling her mind with things to fret over.
“Actually, I did twice,” I added. “I made it back both times.”
“Twice?”
“Remember that ribbon I told you about?”
“Oh, yeah, right.”
I heard the thumping of a grouse. Tess turned to me, looking puzzled. The thing suddenly broke loose with a noisy flutter of wings. She jumped in her saddle.
“You’ve never seen grouse?”
“Well, yeah.” She let out a little laugh. “They always scare me, though. They’re like the Jack-in-a-box. You know it’s coming, but it still startles you.”
“Jack in a box?”
“A toy. I thought they’d been around forever. It’s a small box with a lid. You turn a little crank, it plays Pop Goes the Weasel, then a clown pops out and scares you.”
“You’ll make it back, Tess.” And if she didn’t, I realized, I’d never know.
“I will.”
“It really ain’t as bad here as you think, though. You ain’t had enough time to get to know it, is all. Maybe women don’t vote, and I reckon workin’ might be another matter, but they do get their share of respect, I think. It ain’t always the men making the decisions.”
“I believe your uncle would like to think otherwise.”
I laughed. “My uncle can sometimes be bullheaded, but if you catch him right, he can be reasonable.”
“Have you ever seen him smile?”
“Once, when the mule kicked him in the head.”
Tess cocked her head, her brow furrowed. “What?”
“Just pulling your leg.”
She rolled her eyes. “But really, if it was left to him, we’d only have one horse.” She brought a finger up to her chin. “Wouldn’t that have been cozy?” A smile spread across her face.
“You don’t know my uncle. The last thing on his mind would’ve been ‘cozy.’ I’m sure he was countin’ on my being on foot. I know he must’ve seemed scary to you, but he’s always been fair to me, as has Aunt Lil. They’re real fine folks, Tess.”
“They could be saints, and I still would’ve been scared. It’s hard to see people for what they are when you’re terrified.”
“I reckon you’re right there.”
“That coffee your aunt made… I’m seeing double.”
I grinned and nodded.
“And I have to pee.”
I ignored her bluntness—tried to, anyway. We stopped, and I held the reins of the horses while Tess marched off into the woods. She did the same for me, and then we were on our way again.
“Those coins you gave me—I have a friend whose father collects old coins. I showed him yours. He said they’re worth around three or four thousand dollars because of their age and condition.”
My jaw dropped. “For real?”
“Yeah.”
“Lord almighty. Whoa.”
“Yeah.”
“I’d be a rich man if I were to sell all the silver I have.”
We talked steady the rest of the way up about money, the things we’d buy, places we might someday visit, our families, and a number of things that weren’t so important, but as we drew close to the place, we both quieted. It was as though the mundane topics we’d been gabbing on about were no longer good enough for the precious little time we had left together. I was thinking about the dangers involved in what she was about to do. I recalled how much it had bothered me leaving her up there before. What if she ended up someplace she didn’t know? How could either of us be sure about anything?
After a two-hour ride, we arrived at a spot not far from that oak tree. Tess climbed down from her horse and headed off to a large nearby boulder. I thought maybe she needed to relieve herself again, so I took the horses off away from the trail, tied their reins to a sapling, and found a big rock to sit on. I wasn’t expected back until after sunset, so I had the whole day to wander the woods if I wanted. Tess came walking up to where I sat, carrying her green knapsack.
“I left it hidden over there. I didn’t think it’d be good showing up at your place with this hanging on my back.”
“You’re probably right about that.”
She unzipped a pocket on the side and pulled out two brightly colored objects, both about the size of a harmonica. She handed one to me. It was covered in a loose film with printing of all colors and sizes.
Tess tore hers open. “We’ll share this, so you can keep yours for later.”
“What is it?”
“An energy bar.” She shoved it toward my mouth. “Bite.”
Like the other foods I’d had in 2009, that bar was unusual and quite tasty. The material it came wrapped in, however, was what interested me. Tess took a bite and handed the bar to me. I studied the wrapping, reading the tiny printed words.
“Don’t ask me what all that stuff i
s.”
“Ingredients,” I read.
“My rule of thumb is, if it’s made from substances you can’t pronounce, then you shouldn’t be eating it. So, don’t read it; just eat it.”
“Tess, I sometimes don’t know what to make of you.”
“That doesn’t really matter, does it? You like me anyway.”
“Well, yes.”
“I would like to have seen your face when you were told I was here.”
“I can show you what it was.” I gave her the dumbest-looking face I could manage. “I swear, the last thing I’d ever expect to find here is you.”
She laughed. “Oh, I bet you have gals from every time period dropping in on you regular.”
“Not that many.”
“Oh, right.” She gave my shoulder a nudge. “Hey, I have something for you. I hope you don’t think this is weird.” She opened her knapsack, withdrew an envelope, and handed it to me. Her eyes shifted playfully.
I opened the flap, looked down inside, and pulled out a small sheet of slick paper—a portrait of Tess. I was dumbstruck by its realism. It reminded me of a tintype portrait of my pa that Ma had on her parlor wall. But the portrait I was holding was colored and far more lifelike. I took a peek at Tess, glanced at the portrait, then looked again at her. She made a face.
“My Lord, look at this.” I stared in awe. “Tess, this is incredible.”
“I thought we would better remember each other.” She again reached into her sack. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before.” She came out with a small metallic box covered in buttons, dials, and writing. She stood, then stepped back to a spot about six feet away, crouched down, and began fiddling with the thing.
“What is that?”
“A camera.”
“A picture camera?”
“I made that with it.”
“You made this?”
“Uh huh. I used a tripod.”
I looked down at the portrait again and then pointed at the box in her hands. “That tiny thing?”
“Yeah. So, smile. I’m about to steal a portrait of you.”
“You’re going to make my picture right here?”
She held the thing out in front of her. “Smile.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like, smile.”
